


three cheers

by AnnaofAza



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AP Student Shiro, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Fluff, Football Player Keith (Voltron), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: "It doesn't matter that Shiro's not going. He's not into football, and I'm not going to be that guy who makes their significant other like what I like."Or, Shiro hears about the big homecoming game and wants to support his boyfriend.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 179





	three cheers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fall for Sheith! 
> 
> I know nothing about football (I never even went to a high school game, even though we were supposedly very good), so please forgive any mistakes... including the fact that the Lions seem to be co-ed. Maybe the high school doesn't give a shit, maybe it's flag football, I don't know lol
> 
> Note: WAGs is slang for the "Wives and Girlfriends." (I know this is from hockey. Does football have this? Again, I don't know.)

"So, is Shiro going to be in the cheering section this game?"

Keith rolls his eyes midway through his stretch. “You want Shiro to be on the pep squad? Do you know how many APs he's taking? Or clubs he's on the board of? Or hours he’s working in his parent's doughnut shop? I'm lucky that _I_ don't have to pencil him in.”

"Nooooo," Lance says, smacking him on the back, nearly causing him to faceplant right on the grass. "I mean, is he going to stand on the sidelines with the cheerleaders and the WAGs?"

"Please don't call them that," Pidge says irritably.

"I don't mind," Zethrid says cheerfully. "Ezor and I are planning on putting a ring on it after graduation anyway."

Keith allows that to digest—with Lance sputtering in the background—before saying, "Shiro and I agreed we don't have to come to every school event. For one, we have homework, practices, jobs..."

"You didn't do anything for Valentine's Day—"

"Because we weren't together—"

"You pretty much were—"

"Not officially."

"And you know Keith isn't the Valentine carols guy," Hunk helpfully interjects. Keith shoots him a grateful look. "Besides, everyone knows Shiro and Keith are solid without them having to go, _Ohhhhh, Shiro. I just love your muscles! Give me your class ring, and we can block all the lockers and hallways declaring our devotion_ —"

Pidge joins in: " _Ohhhh, would you go steady with me and go to the prom? Would you? And will you call me every night before I go to bed so I can hear your melodious voice_ —"

"Okay, none of us would say those things," Keith interrupts. (Besides the “I love your muscles” in the heat of a moment involving the backseat of Keith’s car and a paper-thin tank top, but no one has to know that.) "Besides, it's such a dumb little tradition."

"Homecoming is the backbone of high school tradition," Lance wheedles. "Come on."

"Uh, and so is not buying overpriced tickets," Pidge says.

Lance groans. "How are you guys even on this team with that attitude?"

"Anyway," Keith interrupts, giving his teammate an _I'm in charge_ glare. "It doesn't matter that Shiro's not going. He's not into football, and I'm not going to be that guy who makes their significant other like what I like."

"Still," Lance says, "Allura will be there, and so will Shay and Ezor and Ryner and—"

“Shiro doesn't have to come, and you’re not going to bother him about it,” Keith says firmly. “Now, let's break out the whiteboard and focus on some plays...”

* * *

After practice, Keith hears the blare of a horn across the parking lot, and grins when he sees a familiar face waving to him, pink bright box hoisted out the window.

“Get in, loser; we’re going doughnut eating!”

“You’re such a dork,” Keith laughs, kissing Shiro on the cheek and tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, along with his backpack. It’s already crammed with various student council-related posters and Shiro’s overflowing knapsack of color-coded binders.

As Keith slips into the passenger seat, Shiro lifts up the lid, revealing a pile of doughnut holes, some dusted snowy-white and some heavily rolled in cinnamon sugar.

“Leftovers, courtesy of Shirogane Donuts,” Shiro says proudly. “There’s some jelly and custard ones in there.”

“That you didn’t eat?” Keith retorts, staring pointedly at a purple glob on Shiro’s chin. Shiro blushes, wiping away the evidence with a spare paper napkin, as Keith digs into the box and stuffs one into his mouth.

“How was practice?” Shiro asks, starting the engine. He gestures towards the cup-holders, one drink half-empty. “Boba for you.”

“Oh, the usual,” Keith says casually, then gratefully takes a sip: extra grass jelly, low ice, half sweet, making a mental note to Venmo Shiro later. “How was your chemistry exam?”

“I think I did okay,” Shiro replies, which is code for _I aced it, as usual._ “Think I’ll have to review my notes for AP Government again, though. Are you free this evening? Mom says you can stay for dinner.”

“For her cooking? Always.” Keith shoves another doughnut in his mouth, doing his best not to spit out crumbs into the radiator. “And we’re leaving the bedroom door closed this time?”

Shiro flushes, clearly remembering his mom’s face when she’d caught them decidedly _not_ studying. “Um. Well. She says not when Ryou is home, and he will be.” He makes an expert right turn, neatly avoiding a crowd of junior high kids, then glances at Keith. “So… I just heard about homecoming from Lance—”

Keith groans, leaning back in his seat. He’s going to make Lance run extra laps next practice. “Don’t tell me he’s pressuring you to come. I told him—”

“I can trade my hours with my cousin that evening,” Shiro says. “She wants the weekend to go on this music festival with her girlfriend anyway.”

Keith taps Shiro’s nose. “You do _not_ have to come. Football games are already over two hours, plus there’s parking and all those crowds and inflated merchandise and the hot dogs aren’t even good—”

Still watching the road, Shiro lays one finger on Keith’s lips, frowning slightly. “Do you not want me to come?”

“If you don’t _want_ to, I’m not making you. Remember how Adam wanted you to come to all his Model UN and orchestra stuff? I don’t want to be that guy. And besides, it’s…not important,” Keith repeats, trying to sound nonchalant.

He doesn’t want to demand too much of Shiro, take more time of Shiro’s that he already has. He doesn’t even know where he wants to go to college, if this is going to continue beyond that…

Shiro pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. “Keith, I w _ant t_ o support you. This seems like a big deal—as someone who doesn’t know anything about football, but has seen every high school rom com in existence. Romelle said something about dyeing her hair red?”

“Which you don’t have to do,” Keith says quickly. He gently runs his fingertips across his boyfriend’s undercut, loving the stubbly sensation. “I like your hair.”

“I like your hair, too,” Shiro replies, then leans forward, palm cupping the underside of Keith’s chin. Keith easily melts into the kiss, moving his hands to Shiro’s hips, tasting brown sugar and coffee grass jelly—

They’re startled by a loud knock on the window, Keith cursing as his elbow jabs into the horn, surely alerting the entire neighborhood.

“Hey!” Ryou shouts from the porch, palm covering his eyes. “Mom says no exhibitionist activities in the driveway!”

Shiro groans, reluctantly pulls away. “I knew it was a bad idea for Grandpa to get that bullhorn for Christmas.”

* * *

It’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement of game day, but Keith can’t wait for it to get started. Already, crowds have packed the stadium, along with the marching band plating full blast and cheerleaders beginning their spiel. The bright lights overhead are making him sweat.

They’re waiting in the wings, still huddled for Coran’s traditional strategy rundown and team cheer. He’s all decked out in Lions gear, even down to his clipboard and whistle, pacing back and forth.

“Now, don’t be nervous, but recruiters are eyeing you all—for good reason! We are the Lions and we’re the best team in this whole area!” Coran points to everyone in turn, then waves his arms like an evangelical pastor. “That means all of you. I’m proud to be a former player, but I’m always a Lion—as you are! Now, what do we say?”

“Form Vol—”

_“Voltron!”_

The entire team turns to the cheering section, where Shiro’s waving pom-poms bigger than his head.

On his right cheek is Keith’s jersey number, finger-painted in red, along with _GO LIONS!_ travelling down the other side of his face. Red shorts hug his thighs, along with a black Lions tank and red high-tops. He’s even wearing Keith’s letterman jacket as a cape over his ridiculously broad shoulders.

Keith stares, open-mouthed.

"Coach," he says slowly, "give me a moment. I want to kiss my boyfriend."

"Who am I to stand in the way of young lov—oh, he's gone."

In full view of the stands, Keith launches himself into Shiro’s arms and kisses him, with the full foot pop, hearing wolf-whistles from his team.

"You didn't have to."

Shiro shrugs, pulling away with a grin. Already, the paint’s smeared across his face, but he doesn’t seem to mind. "Homecoming? I'm not going to miss that. Besides," he winks, "you look really, really good in football tights."

Keith smacks his shoulder. "Stop. Let’s just—after the game, no matter what, let's skip the after party. Just the two of us?"

“Sure. But we won't be doing that at prom.”

Keith’s brain screeches to a halt. " _Prom_? Are you—"

"Kogane!" Coran shouts, with a blast of his whistle. "Time is up!"

Shiro blows him a kiss and waggles his fingers. "Go get 'em, tiger."


End file.
